Second Death
by xtinemay20
Summary: Eli sneaks her way into the prison, thinking she is alone. She soon stands corrected when she runs straight into Carl Grimes (literally). She fights her way to be welcomed to the group and fight against the Governor with them. Rated T for language. Carl/OC
1. Origin

I sprint as fast as I can into the prison. How I got there is too hard to explain. A few slices of heads off bodies and ripped pants and here I am. Running as fast as I can.  
Well, you don't know me. So, I'll tell you my story.  
My name is Ellie (pronounced _Eelie._ Yeah my hippie parents' idea). I am thirteen years old—or so I can remember from a 2010 calendar. I should be fourteen in two months. I have shoulder length, curly, red hair. My complexion is pale. My face sprinkled with freckles. And eyes probably the ugliest shade of brown eyes can be. I am wearing shoplifted clothes. Well, I wouldn't call them _shoplifted_. I mean, it's the zombie apocalypse! When you take clothes from a store, no one's there to stop you. The clothes I'm wearing are tight, black jeans (now ripped on the thigh and knee), black, lace-up combat boots, a black tank top, and a green army jacket. My fiery red hair is pulled back in a small ponytail at the back of my head, my bangs swooping off to the right of my forehead.  
So, that's what I look like. Here's my actual story.  
I was born in Belle Haven, Virginia. I lived there until the year it started. Me, my older brother, Jeremy, and my parents moved to Atlanta because my mom got some job offer or something. The whole world when to hell once we finally moved into our new house. It was a nice one. My parents spent a fortune on it. It was one of those modern LA houses. Everything clean, sharp angled, grey, and white. It was a waste of money. Buy a house then have it get infested with geeks.  
You probably don't know what geeks are. Well, there are many terms used for them. They're just zombies. But you can call them walkers, lame brains, geeks, etc. I don't know why I do. It just sounds not serious enough when you call the dead zombies. But then again, I call them _geeks_.  
Back to my story. We actually lived in the house for two days. That's all it took for one boy, my brother, to get sick. It happened over night. He had a fever just before he went to bed. All I could hear from my room was the shriek of my mother as she saw the mutilated body of my brother. I ran out of my room and saw him.  
It was the most terrifying thing I had ever seen. There he was. My brother. But he wasn't my brother anymore. He was someone—_something_ else.  
His eyes were glazed over with a milky film. He looked fine otherwise. If he hadn't been moaning and trying to eat my face off, I might think he was my brother. I didn't do anything to save my parents though. The thing lunged at my mom and tore out her neck with its teeth. She was screaming bloody murder, throwing him off and clasping her neck. Next, Jeremy bit into Dad's leg.  
I didn't know what to do. I ran out of the house, the sound of the bloody footsteps of a geek behind me. All I could do was run. That's what I learned is survival. When you don't have weapons, run. That's how I survived. I was smarter than them.


	2. Silent

I jog down the halls. The sound of the heels of my boots hitting the cold stone floor echoes throughout the prison. I am short of breath already but I keep moving. Moving. Moving.

I am about to run past a hall that emerges into the one I'm running through. When, a boy comes out. A living one. He sees me almost run into him and pulls a gun. _Wooow shit!_ I think as he holds it up to me. My violet eyes are wild with fear, while his are cold, blue, and narrowed.

I breath heavily as he keeps the gun pointed to my head.

"Who are you?" He asks. The tone of his voice makes it sound like an order.

I can't talk. I just stand there panting. The boy lowers his gun slightly and knits his eyebrows.

"Can't you talk?"

I shake my head.

He lowers the gun all the way down and puts it in its holster. I eye him doing this, seeing if he has any more weapons. He looks at me and I move my gaze to his eyes.

"You're strange," he remarks as he circles me, "I'm Carl, by the way,"

Oh god. _Carl_? What kind of a name is that? I smirk slightly but wipe the smile off my face when he raises an eyebrow at me.

"Your leg's bleeding," Carl points to a rip in my jeans. Underneath, a gash in my leg oozes blood. I purse my lips and try to hide it, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me behind him.

I wish I had a clue where he was taking me. He didn't seem like the kind of person to aim a gun at your head and then drag you off somewhere.

I follow him without struggle, though. My leg _does_ hurt. We go through a series of hallways and end at a rusty-red door. He opens it and descends down a short set of stairs. We enter the commons area of a cell block. A girl with blond hair curling over her shoulders looks up from a baby she's feeding. _I hope that's not yours,_ I think to myself. She must be only about sixteen, maybe seventeen. Sitting at a table with concrete benches, an older man looks up as well.

He stands up and moves out from behind the bench. I notice he doesn't have a leg. It must have been amputated. He has a face that looks like he hasn't smiled in a long time.

"Who's this?" he says in a stern voice.

Carl just shrugs. I scoff and elbow him in the arm.

"Ow! Sorry, I found her in the tombs—"

"Carl! What were you doing there?!" The girl says with a high pitched voice.

He lets out a groan and walks through the commons area into the cell hallway. I look around quickly, not knowing what to do but decide to follow him.

"Okay. You can't stay here for long. Just until your legs stitched up and ready to go,"

I nod my head, scanning the cells. Carl leads me up a flight of stairs and stops in front of a cell. He turns on his heels, crosses his arms and looks at me. I stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. He cocks his head towards the cell. I glance in it and cross my arms tightly as if I suddenly got cold.

"What?" He asks.

I simply look down, off to the side, "_God!_" he hisses under his breath, "Listen, I'm trying to help you. Are you scared of me or something? I'm not bitten or anything! No one is! If you _don't_ want help then you can leave,"

I don't know how to reply. Well I can't. I told Carl that I was a mute. I can of course. Oh, I should have told you that earlier. Yeah, I can talk. I just couldn't at the time.

I tighten my arms around myself. He rolls his eyes and is about to say something when there is the loud creaking of a rusty door coming from below us followed by the deep voices of men and one more feminine.

"_Shit!_" Hisses Carl as he pushes me into the cell, "You stay in here until I say it's okay. Got it?" I nod my head and back up into the corner of the room. He sighs at me as if saying, _Don't mess this up! I trust you._

I sit in the corner and listen. The sound of his shoes clacking against the steel stairs echoes as he nervously yells, "Hey, Dad!"

I close my eyes and take in a deep breath. _I'm not supposed to be here,_ I think, _this isn't really happening. I'm not with other people, it's okay. _Maybe it's the social anxiety—I don't know—but I don't like other people. You can go ahead and judge me, saying, "What the hell? A thirteen year old girl with socially awkward problems?"

Yeah, kinda."

My eyes snap open at a loud, "WHAT?!" from down stairs.

Oh shit. Here we go.

I can hear Carl's voice, shaky and nervous, trying to talk to someone, I don't know who.

He gave a nervous laugh, "D-Dad. Come on!" Two figures emerge into the frame of the doorway. A tall, lanky man with overgrown hair and in the need of a shave; and Carl, standing feet below him, nervously smiling, "It's not that big of a deal…" his voice hitches on _deal_. He gives the man a teasing punch in the arm. The man's eyes widen and narrow when he sees me. The dark pupils, surrounded by pale blue irises, dilating.

"Carl," his heavy southern accent tight and clipped, "I need to speak with you for a moment,"

Carl's dark blue eyes meet my horrible brown eyes. They widen and then glare. His fists clench. His knuckles turn white. The man, obviously his father, takes stiff, heavy steps away from my cell in the opposite direction of the stairs. I get on my hands and knees and crawl to the edge of the doorway, peeking my head out. Carl follows his father, wringing his hands, into another cell at the end of the hall.

There is a moment of silence, I look to the side—I have no idea why, but this helps my listen, to look away from the place I'm _eavesdropping_ from. There is the stern voice, followed by a small, scared one, then a blast of anguish, "YOU THINK SHE'S _SAFE?!" _ I wince at the words. I guess no one can really trust me. A mute girl. No weapons. No accompaniment. Plus, I'm a redhead. Superstition can be added to the list of complaints. Like I'm gonna steal everyone's soul and gain a freckle every time I do it. I think I already have enough of those.

Carl lets out a blast back at his father, "YES I DO!" There is a silence of being taken aback. Then the voices lower to a hushed level. Too hushed for me to hear.

Carl exits first. I slide back into my corner. The same figures frame themselves in the doorway yet again. Both step in. The larger one speaks, "So…" he makes a gesture with his hands and turns to Carl, "What was her name again?"

Carl purses his lips together, "Umm… She didn't tell me,"

Both males look at me. I widen my eyes and shrug. But then it hits me: I can write it! Yes, I can write it!

I hold my hand in a position as if holding a pencil and make writing motions. Carl's eyes glint as he exclaims, "She can write it! Do we have paper or anything?"

He begins to scramble around and sprints down the stairs, leaving the dad and I alone. We wait there in silence. Our eyes lock and don't ever tear away from each other. Neither of us moves. The silence is unbearable. I want to look away or clear my throat. And I really need to cough. But I hold it in. The man's light sapphire eyes never leaving my (again) horrible, muggy, distasteful, brown orbs.

The silence is broken as Carl comes bolting into the room, his hair hanging over his eyes in sweaty ropes. His breath deep from running. The dad's eyes blink and look from mine to Carl's. He raises his eyebrows questioningly. Carl swallows his breath and shakes his head.

Both look to me. I look back at them, not knowing what to do, _Great. What _now_? What are they gonna call me? Hey, _You_?_

I don't want to be unknown. If I'm going to die, I want to die with some sort of remembrance. I stand and walk up to Carl. We stand almost eye to eye, me a little shorter. I lean in close. Carl's eyes widen and I can almost see his dad's eyebrows raising. I move my hand to where his shirt meets his jeans. My hand fingers along his belt. His cheeks darken and his breath quickens.

Don't start thinking what I know you're thinking! I only _just _met this kid. And so far, I don't really like him. His name is stupid, his hair's too long, and he's not getting in touch with his inner kid enough.

My fingers find a leather cylinder. They wrap around it and slowly pull it out of the belt, the blade scraping against the leather belt. I back up, the knife in hand. Carl looks like he might faint and Rick has a sharp eyebrow raised and two blue pools widened.

I slink up to the wall opposite the bed. The knife gives out a slight _ting_ as the point taps against the stone wall. Then there is a deafening screech it scrapes against the stone, making white lines where it travels.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see both Carl and his father covering their ears, wincing every time I pick it up and let it down again. They almost don't seem to notice as I lower the knife from the wall and turn to them, waiting patiently.

One at a time, they uncover their ears and walk over to see the wall. In neat strokes I have written,

ELLIE

"Ellie?" Asks Carl, "That's simple."

I almost forget that I can't laugh. A name like Ellie (well, he forgot the long E sound) is _simple_?!

I shake my head and make a small dash over the first E, causing the boys to wince again.

ĒLLIE

"_Eellie_…" Carl corrects himself; I nod my head in encouragement.

He gives a sort of "not bad" somewhat frown face.

"So, _Ellie_," says the older man, exaggerating the long E sound too much, "you want to join the group…?"

**Ok! Well that chapter was much longer than the last! PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE leave a comment and favorite this story!**

**BYE!**


	3. AUTHOR'S NOTE!

**Hello fellow fictionors! I just wanted to answer YunaDarknell's question because I would it was bothering me not being able to tell you this.**

**Ok, so yes, her name is pronounced ****_Eelie_**** with the long E sound. I got this idea from the movie "Let the Right One In". I know that the girl in its name is Eli (pronounced ****_Eelie_****). They made an English remake called "Let Me In". I don't know if they named her Eli too, but I liked that name and I found out that you can write it like Ellie too. So, I kinda just went with it! **

**Well, I will be updating sometime next week!**

**Bye!**

**~Viv**


	4. Please Read!

**Heyheyhey guys! Sorry it's been a while since I've updated (for me). I have MAGOR writer's block. Well, I was wondering, as I read the comments, "Why does everyone say, 'Finally! Someone who ships Ellie and Carl!'?" So I tumblred this and finally found out that Ellie is from the video game! It makes so much sense now! But, sadly, this is not the same Ellie. I might be making another one with that Ellie and Carl. I'm not sure how old she is, so would someone please leave a comment saying? Thank you! I think I'm gonna make it once I get really into this fic. Also, I am going to change how you spell this Ellie's name. I'm gonna do it how it was in Let the Right On In. So, it shall now be: Eli! **

**Well, thank you so much for being wonderful readers! I'll be updating soon!**

**~Viv**


	5. Getting Used To It

**Ok guys! So, I am going to wright the last part of chapter two!**

**Previously:**

One at a time, they uncover their ears and walk over to see the wall. In neat strokes I have written,

Eli

"Eli?" asks Carl, "That's a _guy's_ name,"

I shake my head. I point to the I, then to the E. I make a line with my finger, _long_, I want to say.

"El_ee_?" asks Carl?

I nod. _Ten points to Gryffindor!_ I almost yell.

He makes a sort of _not bad_ face.

The older man clears his throat, "So, Eli…" he exaggerates the long E sound in the I too much, "you want to join the group…"

* * *

**Chapter 5!**

**One week later:**

Well, now I'm in the group! I guess puppy faces and crying help. Rick let me in almost immediately. Stroke of luck for him to come across me.

The little mute girl, baby faced, short, curly hair. That's a little toddler from his point of view.

Well, as you can see, I charmed him into letting me stay. Yep, it was that easy.

But, right now isn't an easy moment for me. Because, you see, right now, I am vomiting uncontrollably on the concrete floors. That's what happens when the innards get on me. I can't stand it.

It happened like this: The group goes into the tombs to kill more geeks. I kill three geeks myself. I'm about to kill one when Mr. Let Me Show Off Because You're a Girl My Age nearly blasts my head off, misses the geek's by a landslide, and shoots _again_. This time hitting the geek through the eye socket, but letting its vital fluids spray me in the face.

That's when the hurling started.

I stood there, paralyzed. The geek had already fallen. I could feel a pull in my gut and a stabbing sensation in my stomach. I doubled over and let it all out.

And here I am now. Vomiting before the whole group. Holding myself up with a hand against a wall. Every time it happens, I struggle to breathe.

I let out the last of my stomach fluids and start to dry heave. No one comes to comfort me. Most of them just stare and wrinkle their noses.

My stomach relaxes, my guts loosen. I fall back and sit, panting. I brush my fingers through my hair.

I almost say, "I feel like such _shit_!"

Too bad I can't.

Finally someone speaks up, "You alright?" Glenn puts a hand on my shoulder. I nod and pull myself up.

You may be asking who Mr. Let Me Show Off Because You're a Girl My Age is. Well, it's really obvious. Carl Motherfucking Grimes. I don't call him Motherfucking because he's a badass or anything. It's because he's a little annoying bitch.

Just to clear that up.

Well, Mr. Let Me Show Off Because You're a Girl My Age walks up to me. The group starts to move ahead. This leaves Carl and me dragging along in the back.

"You okay?"

I raise an icy eyebrow at him, _are you deaf?_

He gives me an annoyed look. Since we are in the back of the group, we don't have to kill anything. We just lag along, stopping occasionally when the people in front do the dirty work. As I have found out, Beth and Herschel stay behind with the baby. The baby, thank god, is not Beth's. She is Carl's little sister, Judith. Carl's mother died during childbirth and his dad went crazy for a bit.

That's all I know.

"So, are you a voluntary mute?"

I shake my head. I should I be? No. Then he will keep bitching me to talk.

"Oh,"

* * *

It isn't long before we are heading back. Carl and I lagging behind _yet_ again. No conversation this time. Since there is nothing going on, I'll tell you _how_ I kill these things.

You may have been wondering because I had no weapons when I got here. Well, I still don't. I use my hands. You may be asking if I don't throw up when I get the stuff on my hands. That's the point. I don't. I've gotten so used to getting the blood and brains on my hands that it doesn't bother me. When it gets on my face, _that's_ when I start freaking out.

We get to the large rusty colored door of Cell Block C. We all enter and go to our different places. Carol goes over to make food. Rick sits at one of the tables, sullenly. Glenn and Maggie go off to their cell. Daryl throws his stuff down at a table and sorts through it. Michonne goes off to her cell. Carl sits at another separate table and pulls apart his gun and puts it back together again. I follow Michonne, Maggie, and Glenn into the cell hall, out of the commons room. All three of them are "allowed" on the first floor, while I'm stuck on the second. Rick still doesn't trust me.

That's one problem with this place. Uncle Rick **(I'm sorry but I had to do that, PJO fans)** doesn't seem to like little, innocent, indigestive, Eli. Back to the list of reasons not to have me. Silent, no weapons, red head, dumbass name.

I climb the stairs and cross three cells to the left. And here I am. Lonely little cell Nᴼ 807. I have no positions except the clothes on my back. Nothing to brighten the place up—well, I guess no one's really into that right now.

I sit on the lower half of the bunk bed. My hand runs over the thin blue mattress. Alone, finally. It's the moments like these that make me relaxed. No noise comes out from the other cells. No one seems to be talking. The world is silent. I close my eyes and lay back on the bed, pulling my hair out of its small ponytail. Letting it pool behind my head.

I try to remember what it was like before. What _I_ was like before. Well, here's a story to be told. I was the funny one. The one who was always being crazy, running around giggling. Then, when the world went to shit, I got the social problems. I had seen my mother ripped apart by my own brother. I had seen plenty of people ripped apart. That's when it hit. I hadn't talked to a person since. I almost forgot how to talk.

I sigh and open my eyes. I can tell I have company. I prop myself up on my elbows. In the doorway stands Carl. He leans against the frame, his arms crossed.

"Well, well, well, little Eli," someone sounds mad, "someone seems to think it's funny to tell Beth that I like her,"

I can't help it, I crack a smile.

"Yup. That's it. I _knew_ I shouldn't have trusted you in the first place,"

I bit down on my lip hard, holding down a laugh that is erupting inside me.

"How did you tell her anyways!? Did you write it on her hand again?"

I nod, tears streaming down my face, my cheeks turning redder and redder.

That's a new method of mine. I write letters with my finger on people's hands. That's how I told Beth. Yeah, I'm just mean like that. I also had told everyone my backstory, my full name, everything.

Carl's eyes narrow, he enters the room and comes right up to me, raising a finger to my face, "Now listen here, Martin, you tell anyone—and I mean anyone—anything else, you'll be out of here just as fast as you came in!"

Martin is my last name.

I nod again, biting my lip even harder. He glares as he backs up out of the room. I lean back on the bed, giggling slightly. I might just get used to this place.

**Ok! That's it for now! I'll update soon!**


	6. Voices

**OK! So, I guess Ellie from the game is like 12-14. So, I might make her and Carl both 14 if I make another fanfic. BUT! I am gonna make another but not with them—yet! In this one, I have a kinda creepy, messed up girl—like high pitched voice, quiet too, kind of clueless, freaks out easily. So I need YOU to give me ideas for her name and the name of the story! YEAH! So, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

Let me tell you how much I hate Carl, right now.

Words cannot describe how much I hate him.

Oh, wait. Yes they can. Here's how: Every minute of every day, I want to punch him everywhere in the body. Yes. Everywhere. I don't care if that means that he won't be able to have kids when he gets older. They would be just as shitty as he is. Beth will never like him. Ouch. I should say that to his face. Or… write. But, if Beth feels anything for Carl, all it could be would be hatred, annoyance, or the oh-my-god-I-really-don't-like-you-I'll-just-preten d-to-be-nice. The last one makes the most sense.

I have no idea how his own father can handle him. It's like he needs to just age backwards so he's a little kid again. Because it's the zombie apocalypse, you can't be fun? Okay.

I could go on and on about how much I hate him but right now, I'm watching people kill stuff.

I'm on watch—if you call sitting in a watch tower, flipping through an old Rolling Stone magazine, sitting in a swivel chair with your feet kicked up on a control board, on watch.

Down in the courtyard, fifty, maybe sixty people fling their weapons around, splattering brains everywhere, sending limbs flying. People have come. Lots of people. I had no idea how they got here. It just happened yesterday. I haven't been allowed outside until today. I learned about this guy, the Governor. I guess he just wants to kill everybody, basically.

So, Rick and some others rescued the whole town he had renovated. I no longer have a floor to myself, I have to share a cell, even, with this creepy girl. She acts all damaged and stuff, like I should pity her. Her name is Claire. One year younger than me. That makes her 12. Long, straight, dark blonde hair, grey eyes. Five foot, one (two inches shorter than me). One little bitch. All night, every night, all I hear is: "I tried to tell everyone that the Governor was bad. I tried, but no one believed me!" and, "I knew it right from the start!" or sometimes, "I just got my period today,"

So, I have to deal with that every night. I can't even tell her to shut the hell up! Well, that's the way it crumbles—cookie wise.

I sigh and swing my legs off of the control board and swivel my chair around the small room, kicking off of the walls, humming to myself. I hum the Star Wars theme song. I found out that I like it a lot up here. I can talk, sing, hum, make any noise I want as long as I'm quiet enough for no one to hear me. I start to sing the theme song now, "Da, daaaa, da, da, da, daa, daaaaaa—da, da, da, daaa, da, da, da, da, daaaaaa!"

I peek out the window to see if anyone heard me. Nope. The sound of yells, running, and zombie sounds is probably too loud. I turn around, humming now, to the door.

I almost scream. My humming stops. I keep my face calm though. Leaning in the doorway is—guess who.

I'm not even going to say it! It's obvious who it is.

But, if you can't get it, he has a thing for leaning, Beth, and being a jackass.

"You aren't mute you little liar!"

I shrug. On the outside, I'm showing that I could care less. On the inside, I'm thinking that I'm going to have to talk. Oh god please, no.

"You're just a voluntary mute. You wouldn't be if you couldn't laugh! God, what a weirdo. What's with that anyways?"

I open my mouth and close it. I swivel in my chair, looking around the desks for paper and pens. Luckily, whomever stood watch here came prepared. I take the pen in my left hand and begin to write against the desk.

Don't like to

"Well, why not?"

I stare at him. There is no way I'm gonna tell him that.

"Okay. Fine then. Well, we're gonna all go inside now. I think that's it for today,"

I sit and stare.

"Ooookay…" murmurs Carl as he backs out of the room.

I lean back a little in the chair and spin myself around. My eyes are closed but I'm not worried about crashing into anything. I feel like I'm being picked up and spun through the air. The hot wind blowing through my sweaty hair. When my eyes are closed I feel so free. Like I'm not part of the real world. I can be part of my own world. Filled with whatever I want. I wouldn't be the way I am, of course. If I were to die right now, that would be the best way.

**Carl's P.o.V.**

I peek around the corner of the wall. Watching the girl spin around in the chair. Her eyes closed, her mouth curved into a smile. Her arms out. The wind blowing her orange curls around. For the first time since I've brought her here, she looks happy. Her eyes open and stare at the ceiling. Her caramel eyes shining. I turn around and head back to the cell block.

**Eli's P.o.V.**

Eventually, I get tired of being alone and go inside. The sad part is that its only me wandering alone to the doors that bring me inside. Just me; there are a few people standing on the roofs of various parts of the building, looking out. I sit by the fence, a couple hundred feet away from the gate.

I sit cross-legged on the hot concrete. A few geeks come up to the fence and reach their arms through, their jaws gnashing, the eyes white and wondering. Watching them is painful. Knowing that once, they were real people. They remind me of the Reavers from _Firefly_. They were once human, they got a little, you know, _messed up_ and now they're all crazy and ready to kill everything that crosses their path.

I blink hard and almost feel a tear forming in the corner of my eye. I blink it back.

"Hey,"

I turn around to see Daryl, of all people. I clear my throat. He sits down next to me, his legs tucked up to his chest.

"Everybody's inside. Wouldn't be a bad idea if you came in too,"

I point to a young man standing watch on the roof, holding a rather large gun.

He squints against the sun, "Yeah, well, everyone _your _age,"

I grab his hand. With my finger, I write:

M—A—K—E—S—N—O—D—I—F—F—E—R—E—N—C—E.

(Makes no difference)

He looks down on me. There is a long silence. It lasts about five minutes. Both of us watching the geeks. But, it's like it's not even the geeks. At least, _I_ don't see them. I see many different things. Nice things. The grass is greener, the sky brighter, the air clearer.

I tuck my knees up to my chest and rest my chin on them.

"It's sad,"

Daryl nearly snaps his neck turning his head to look at me, his eyes wide, "What?"

"You know, how the geeks used to me human. They can't help being flesh eating monsters," I turn to him. His eyes are wide with shock, "You talked!"

I roll my eyes and put my hands behind me, supporting my weight on the ground, "Well I can't stay silent forever, can I? And if _you're_ going to tell me I can't talk, then I'd better start moving my tongue,"

I look over to Daryl, one of his eyebrows raised, I snort out a laugh and soon both of us are laughing.

**Okay guys, that's it for now. I'll update really soon! Remember to leave a review and tell me what you think for my new story!**


	7. OH MY GOD ANOTHER AUTHOR'S NOTE!

**Hey guys! I'll probsies be updating again today but I wanted to post a template for you guys to help me make my new character!**

**PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE give me some ideas! I won't judge ;)!**

**I already have her back story. I will take any requests!**

**Title:**

**Gender: Girl**

**Name:**

**Age: 12-13 yrs.**

**Complexion:**

**Height:**

**Hair Color:**

**Hair Length/Style:**

**Eye Color:**

**Facial Features:**

**Clothing:**

**Ok! So, I already have her backstory and everything. So, PLEASE either leave a review with this or send me a PM! And sorry if I don't include ****_everything_**** you put in. Thanks so much!**

**~Viv**


	8. UPDATING!

**Wow! Sorry guys, I haven't updated in a while because of school and stuff. It may not be in a while until my next break that I update! I have so much stuff going on and I would update now, but I'm getting ready for a week long field trip next week, but I will be checking reviews and PMs. **

**OMG LAST NIGHTS EPISODE WAS AMAZING! Sorry just had to say that! Rick/Michonne all the way!**


End file.
